You grow,' said the lad, laying his hand timidly on that of Nicholas, 'you grow thinner every day; your cheek is paler, and your eye more sunk.
Indeed I cannot bear to see you so, and think how I am burdening you.

I tried to go away today, but the thought of your kind face drew me back.
I could not leave you without a word.' The poor fellow could say no more, for his eyes filled with tears, and his voice was gone.
'The word which separates us,' said Nicholas, grasping him heartily by the shoulder, 'shall never be said by me, for you are my only comfort and stay.

I would not lose you now, Smike, for all the world could give.
The thought of you has upheld me through all I have endured today, and shall, through fifty times such trouble.

Give me your hand.

My heart is linked to yours.